


Panda Hero

by TrebleTwenty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrebleTwenty/pseuds/TrebleTwenty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is telling his friends all about his new idol, the Panda Hero. One of his friends, Arthur, the most unlikely superhero anyone could think of, just happens to be the Panda Hero. It goes from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Panda Hero

“They call him the Panda Hero.” Alfred F Jones slammed a bundle of paper down in front of his friend.

“Hmm?” Francis was abruptly brought out of a very pleasant daydream.

“That guy we saw on the news. He’s the Panda Hero, with smoky eyes and a killer line drive! He fights crime and injustice and beats up all the bad guys! Woo yeah!” He started making superhero sound effects and was promptly smacked around the head by a paperback book wielded by the grumpy library assistant, who winced as his bruised arm played up again. All that crime-fighting was more trouble than it was worth sometimes.

“Idiot!” Arthur Kirkland – aka the Panda Hero – hissed. “We’re in a library, this is no place for blathering on about that hooligan!”

“Hey, that’s my hero you’re talking about there!”

“Oh, _mon petit lapin_ , you must relax, embrace the love, embrace the – ouch!”

Arthur turned red, though in response to which comment it was unclear.

“Keep your wandering hands to yourself; I’m not your damn rabbit!”

“Why don’t you like the Panda Hero, Artie?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Cool Artie, but why? I think he’s awesome.”

“He’s no better than a common criminal! Fighting violence with more violence is never the answer: he should leave that sort of thing to the police, they get paid for it after all! And haven’t I always said that you should never trust people in hoodies?!”

“Such passion, _cher_ , why won’t you –”

“Remove your hand from my leg right now or I can’t be held responsible for what happens to it.”

“Oh, are you talking about the Panda Hero? I heard that the thieves he beat up last night are still in hospital.” The Chinese exchange student, Yao from Francis’ history class, joined them.

“See?!” Arthur cried indignantly. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, one of them is in intensive care.”

Arthur fell silent, trying not to let the guilt show on his face.

“Where’s Braginsky anyway, Yao? Doesn’t he always follow you around?” Alfred skilfully steered the conversation away from boring topics he had little vested interest in.

“He’s coming.” Yao laughed bitterly. “He always is. He just stalks me all day going on about ‘becoming one with him’ – whatever the hell that means.”

“It means – _cher lapin_ , would you kindly stop hitting me for just a minute, _sil vous plait_?!” Francis pouted.

“Only if you stop being a perverted frog.” Arthur replied, idly flipping a page in his book and not bothering to look up.

“No chance of that then.” Alfred quipped.

“ _Privyet_ , comrades!” A dark aura fell over the group.

“Hi Ivan,” Arthur –did not squeak- nervously.

“I heard you all talking about the Panda Hero, _da_?”

“Da-um, I mean, yeah, we were, what’s it to you?”

“Alfred, don’t be rude.”

“God, Artie, you sound like my mother!”

“Don’t call me th- this is your last warning, Francis!”

Francis guiltily brought his hand back to his own end of the table.

“I am thinking you guys are funny, _da_?”

“Hey, didn’t you actually _meet_ the Panda Hero once?” Alfred asked.

“ _Oui_ , I heard that also.”

“Is it true?”

Ivan appeared to think for a minute.

“ _Da_ , it is.” He said finally.

Alfred’s eyes lit up. Arthur inwardly panicked.

“But I am thinking that I should not be telling you, comrade. I am thinking that you do not like me very much. I am right, _da_?”

“B-but it’s the _Panda Hero_!” Alfred whined.

“So?” Arthur replied snidely.

“Now, who’s rude, Artie?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just tell all, Ivan, otherwise he’ll never leave you alone.” Yao sighed. He really needed to find some new friends.

“I agree, dear Alfred can be very …. _Persistent_.”

“Well that wasn’t creepy at all, was it Francis?”

“Okay, I will tell all if I must, but only because you asked so nicely, my little Yao-Yao.” Ivan smiled.

“I’m not _your_ little anything…” ‘Yao-Yao’ muttered.

“Really dude? Awesome!” Alfred settled himself down in a spare chair and blinked expectantly up at the Russian.

Ivan took a deep dramatic breath and then begun.

“It was maybe a month ago now, maybe more, maybe less, but I am not sure. It was a very cold night, and I was new to the city. I had gotten lost on the way back to the apartment I share with my sisters, and it had just started to rain…”

Everyone surreptitiously leaned forward in their seats so as to hear the story better.

 

* * *

 

_Ivan adjusted his scarf to try and shield more of his neck from the rain, shivering slightly. The shower had taken him by surprise on the way back to his apartment (he refused to call it home. Not yet), and he was soaked through. He picked up the speed as he passed by a couple of men at the mouth of the side street he had to pass through._

_“Don’t notice me, don’t notice me…” He inwardly prayed as he hurried past them._

_“Hey, hey you, kid!”_

_He walked faster._

_“Hey kid, I’m talking to you!”_

_Maybe they would decide he wasn’t worth the trouble?_

_One of them grabbed the end of his scarf and spun him around to face them._

_“There now, we can talk better like this, can’t we?” The man leered._

_Ivan gulped. He knew he should have brought his pipe._

_A dark shape flashed over the top of the alley. Nobody noticed._

_“Now, what’s a young boy like yourself doing out so late in the night?”_

_The man’s companion was lifted up and disappeared up into the night, his legs pedalling madly in the air. Ivan registered this in a detached sort of way and giggled._

_“Hey, what’s so funny?” The man growled, giving a cursory glance over his shoulder and not even noticing the loss of his companion._

_A figure detached from the shadows at the side of the alley, padding silently over to stand behind the man._

_“Umm….er….”_

_“What, boy, Cat got your tongue?”_

_The figure tapped him on the shoulder, and he whirled around, alarmed._

_But the mystery figure was already gone._

_“W-what was that?” He shook Ivan. “Boy, did you see what that was?”_

_He was tapped on the shoulder again, and this time as he whirled around, the mystery figure punched him in the jaw. He went flying into the wall and crumpled to the ground, groaning. Ivan watched all this with wide eyes, suddenly afraid that he might have just swapped one difficult situation for another that was even more dangerous._

_The new man sighed. “Oh dear, it appears I no longer know my own strength.” He looked down at his hand, admiring it._

_He called out to the man he had floored._

_“Terribly sorry about that old chap, I didn’t mean to hit you quite so hard.”_

_The mugger (For Ivan was quite sure that was what he was) hauled himself to his feet, shaking with rage._

_“You-you bastard! You don’t just do that!” He ran at Ivan’s rescuer (he hoped), fist ready to punch back. Just as he swung for the face, the rescuer disappeared. He plunged straight through the spot his would-be victim had been standing. The man reappeared behind the mugger and delivered a solid kick to his back, sending him sprawling once more._

_Ivan backed away slowly, ready to run if either of them looked his way._

_“And you just don’t harass kids in the middle of the night down dirty allies, but that didn’t stop you, did it?” The rescuer looked down at the mugger with contempt. In a last ditch attempt at salvaging his dignity, the man swept his leg out to try to knock the rescuer over, who jumped clear without even looking down._

_He realized a lost cause when he saw one, and started scrabbling backwards on the floor, before turning and running. The rescuer dashed after him, impossibly fast, and yanked him back by the collar of his coat. The man’s eyes widened as he choked, and was thrown back against the wall. Groaning, he looked blearily up at the rescuer, who glared down at him. He grabbed him by the fringe and slammed his head once against the wall, then twice for good measure, before dropping him in a heap on the floor. He snorted in contempt then turned to Ivan. Ivan froze in alarm._

_“Relax, I didn’t kill him. Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you at all, did he?”_

_Warily, Ivan shook his head._

_“That’s good, it means I’m getting faster.” He started coming closer. “Here, let me check you over.”_

_And for some reason, Ivan let him. There was just something about him that said ‘trust me’._

_He came forward to check Ivan over, and as he came closer to the light at the end of the alley, Ivan could actually see his rescuer for the first time._

_He was surprisingly young, he couldn’t have been much older than Ivan himself, with unruly blond hair and ridiculously large eyebrows. His eyes were a striking shade of emerald green, rimmed with some sort of darker green circles, like shadows from tiredness, and he appeared to be very pale, although that could just have been the lack of light. He was wearing white gloves (which seemed a little impractical for a person who went around punching things), and hooded jacket printed with the flag of the United Kingdom- what was it called again? – ah yes, the Union Jack, with round black ears attached to the top of the hood._

_What a strange man. Ivan had certainly never come across anyone like this back home in Russia. This served to further cement his belief that all foreigners were crazy._

_“Well, it looks like you’re fine to me. Are you alright to get home from here?”_

_Still slightly shell-shocked, Ivan nodded._

_“Good.” The strange man turned, starting to disappear back into the darkness._

_“Wait!” Ivan called out, suddenly reluctant to let him leave._

_“Yes?” The man turned back._

_“_ Spasiba- _um, I mean, thank you…” He trailed off, feeling awkward._

_“That’s quite alright; I’m just doing my job.”_

_“What kind of job is this? Who are you?”_

_The man smiled._

_“I believe they call me the Panda Hero. You might hear about me soon, if you haven’t already.” He began to melt away into the darkness._

_“I will see you again,_ da _?”_

_“When you least expect it.” And the Panda Hero was gone._

_Ivan smiled. Suddenly this new city didn’t seem quite as intimidating._

_And if it tried to scare him again, well, he could always be scarier._

 

* * *

 

“…so I returned home to my sisters, and the next day I heard all about how the Panda Hero had left a man wanted for drug dealing hanging by his ankles from a lamppost outside the police station.”

“He _spoke_ to you…” Alfred was in awe.

“ _Da_.”

“You…”

“ _Da_.”

“…wow.”

“It was not a very good disguise; I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.” Arthur gulped nervously as Ivan seemed to look right at him.

There was a silence.

“Alfred, _cher_ , you have that look again.” Francis changed the subject in alarm.

“What look?” Alfred tried and failed to look innocent.

“What are you planning?” Yao narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Nothing!”

“That’s a dirty lie and you know it.” Arthur snorted in derision. “You’re going to do something stupid again: admit it!”

“Come on guys, when do I do stupid things?”

They all gave him a look.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

“ _Da_ , you are. We have only been here for four weeks, and already you have set off the fire alarm twice, flooded a bathroom, smashed three chairs and broken the gym teacher’s nose.”

Alfred waved it off. “Psh, water under the bridge dude, me and Mr. Beilschmidt are cool.”

“God, you’re so _American_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Artie?”

“Nothing.” He returned to pretending to read. There was another awkward silence, longer this time. This was prone to happening after a lively conversation, as none of them had really known each other for very long. Five exchange students to Canada all transferring on the same day and becoming friends? The odds were astronomical. And yet there they were.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Yao laughed inwardly at the absurdity of that statement as he got up. He really needed to get some new friends. “But I should really start working on my new research paper. Goodbye.” He walked away.

“Yao-Yao, wait for me!” Ivan hurried after him. Yao sighed. It was like having an excitable puppy following him around sometimes.

“Yao is right. I, too, must leave. I have Spanish poetry I could be studying.” Francis strolled languidly away, but not without many longing glances back at the table, which were only stopped by Arthur standing up and waving his book at him threateningly.

Arthur sighed and sat down again, muttering something darkly under his breath about ‘perverted frogs’ and ‘damn sexy French hair’. Alfred blinked. Surely he must have heard that wrong.

“Hey Artie, don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Why d’you think I’m reading Shakespeare, idiot?” He replied scathingly. “Shouldn’t you be off calculating the weight of time or something, or whatever it is you physicists do?”

“Time doesn’t have a weight, Artie.”

“I don’t care, go study.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine,” Alfred sighed melodramatically as he dragged himself out of his chair, pulling the bundle of papers he had produced earlier with him. He began to shuffle off backwards, with a woebegone look back at that table which Arthur steadfastly ignored. He sighed (his puppy-dog eyes only worked when someone looked at them), and crashed into someone behind him. Arthur tutted and returned to his book.

“Oh hey Kiku, I didn’t see you there.” Alfred steadied his small Japanese friend with a hand on each shoulder. Kiku looked at the hands in alarm.

“Did I ever tell you about the Panda Hero, buddy?”

“No, Alfred-san, you did not, but-”

“Awesome! I know what we’re doing this lunch! C’mon dude!”

“Alfred-san, I do not think-”

He was dragged out of earshot by an overexcited Alfred, his protests falling on deaf ears.

Arthur shook his head, imagining what Alfred might say if he ever found out the _he_ was the Panda Hero…

 

* * *

 

Alfred Jones sighed as he tossed the tenth comic of the night onto his bedside table and idly flicked his torch on and off a few times. God, this was so boring. His parents had gone to bed an hour ago, but he needed to be absolutely sure they were asleep before he got up. If they found out he’d ran off for another adventure in the middle of the night, he’d be grounded for life. Again.

And his friends would laugh so much, especially after he insisted that he wasn’t planning anything. They were so mean to him sometimes, but he wouldn’t swap them for the world. They’d made the move to Canada actually bearable, putting up with his whining despite them also going through the same difficulties as him and not saying a word. It was a miracle they hadn’t got tired of his constant bitching yet.

Finally, his boredom got the better of him( ruminating on his friendship windfalls only distracted him for so long), and he threw his covers back, wincing at the chill in the air despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He tiptoed over to his closet and slid an extra jacket out as quietly as he could manage. He fluffed his pillows and rolled his duvet back over them. Foolproof.

He put his beanie hat on, wrapped a scarf twice around his neck, and picked up his camera and fixed the strap around his wrist. After a moment’s thought, he also picked up a notebook and pen, and put them in his pocket. Just in case an opportunity for an autograph arose.

He was ready. He unhooked the latch on his window and slid it open as quietly as possible. He climbed through, and propped it open with a handy rock from the garden. Giving his clothing and equipment a final once-over, he sighed in relief. He was out. Now all he needed to do was find his hero. The city wasn’t so big, was it…?

 

* * *

 

Arthur Kirkland stood on a roof. His favourite roof of them all, actually, as it offered the best vantage point over his city. His beautiful new city, his charge. It was hard sometimes, and he hadn’t wanted it at first, but he knew that he was the only one that could protect her. Even the other Panda Heroes couldn’t match it. Where were they now, after all?

“Hey England!” Flying Mint Bunny flew around his head. That had been weird, when his childhood soft toy had started to speak to him (some sort of guardian magic or space nonsense, the same as his new abilities), but he’d quickly gotten used to it. It was actually kind of nice.

“It’s great to see you again! Did you have a good day?”

“No worse than usual. Where am I needed today?”

“Three blocks across. There’s a couple of shady characters in hoods lurking near the mouth of an alley. After that we’ll catch up with the fools trying to break into the department store.”

“I’m on it.”

He stifled a yawn and pulled his own hood up over his head. He stretched his limbs out a little and set the alarm on his watch for 2am, so he’d get at least some sleep that night (Or morning, rather).

“I must say, it’s nice to see you spending time with friends, England! I was worried about you for a while!”

“You were still an inanimate object when I didn’t have any friends.”

“That doesn’t matter, silly!”

Well, that didn’t make sense, but what could you expect from a mysteriously animate soft toy depiction of a non-existent creature?

“Moving here has really helped you, I’m glad. That Alfred especially, he’s brought you out of yourself!”

Arthur coughed awkwardly. “Yes, well, he’s an idiot,  I need to tell him to shut up sometimes!”

“And Francis, and Yao, and even Ivan as well! It’s so lucky you all moved here at the same time!”

“They’re all weird. Now come on, let’s go, these criminals won’t beat themselves up!”

“You got that right! Let’s rock!”

He checked himself over one more time, put his gloves on, and smiled.

He ran, and leapt from the roof.

Time to get to work.


	2. Alfred's Adventure

  


Alfred scurried through the streets, hugging himself to try and keep warm, pretending that he wasn’t scared. He was the hero, heroes weren’t afraid of anything!

A cat yowled and something clattered nearby, and he dropped his camera in fright, letting out a girly shriek. The perpetrator, a large ginger tom, ran out in front of him, and slunk under a parked car on the other side of the street. He laughed slightly hysterically in relief

“I-I totally knew that was a cat!” He called out to whoever might be listening, which was precisely no-one. He resumed his search for the elusive vigilante, albeit at a faster pace than before, gazing around with wide nervous eyes all the while. The Panda Hero better show up soon, he was freezing!

 

* * *

  


The Panda Hero delivered a savage kick to the ribs of one of five men he had just finished _dealing_ with.

“That bloody well hurt, you tosser. I have to go to school with that!” He rolled his shoulder, wincing as he did so, and kicked the man again for good measure.

“Did he get my face, flying mint bunny?” He poked at his cheek anxiously.

The mythical rabbit examined him for a moment, before declaring “You look as handsome as ever, England.”

“Thank you. Should I check these on the police app?”

“Well, you certainly can’t leave them here, can you? One of them could be dangerous.”

“You’re right.”

He fished his phone out of his trouser pocket, scrolling through it quickly and selected his police app, designed and installed by Eduard, his contact from computer sciences (because both of them were the kind of person that likes to pretend they’re too busy and important to have friends), back when he did that thing that boosted the signal and halved the phone bill. The thing had been practically a brick with a light before Eduard got his hands on it, so Arthur paid him handsomely for the trouble, like everyone else did.

He scrolled through the faces and the latest reports, comparing them to those in front of him. He paused at one, scrutinising intensely, but eventually dismissed it.

“We’re clear; the police can pick these up.” He scrolled back up to the top again, to the most recent reports, looking for a nearby call to deal with. He found one, and sighed.

“Jewellery store again? Really?” He tucked the phone away in a pocket and kicked the man who had injured his shoulder again. Bloody hell he ached. His whole body was covered in bruises and scratches and he was only adding more every night. Surely he should be healing faster now, being a superhero? Flying Mint bunny said he had to wait, and find the other Panda Heroes before all his abilities would fully manifest, but he really wasn’t sure if he could wait that long. What if someone shot at him or something?

“Right, let’s go. I have a good feeling about tonight.” He smiled, and hoped he didn’t run into anyone he knew. He limped forward, out into the light of the main street, massaging at his aching shoulder, muttering various expletives under his breath, and walked straight into the path of a shivering boy in his early teens, bundled up in so much clothing only his eyes were visible. The boy jumped about a foot in surprise, shouting…something, but it was muffled by his scarf. He waved his hand excitedly in Arthur’s direction, hurriedly ripping the offending winter clothing away from his face.

“Panda Hero! Thank god I finally found you, it’s bitchin’ cold out here!” He grinned.

“Language!” Arthur barked, more out of habit than anything else.

“Sorry, sorry!” The teen held his hands up in a gesture of goodwill, smiling sheepishly. “You’re, like, my hero dude, can I talk to you? Just if you’re not busy right now, I mean.”

Wait, was that _Alfred_?

“Not for too long, alright, then you need to go home and sleep.” Arthur found himself saying. What the bloody hell was he doing?

“Hell yeah!” He whooped, fist pumping the air. “I’m Alfred, by the way.” He held out his hand to shake, smiling the way he always did. “Who are you?”

For some reason, Arthur found himself smiling back. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? You can call me…England.”

He took the proffered hand, and shook it.

“Awesome. Hey, can I have your autograph, Mr England?”

Oh, _Alfred._

 

* * *

  


“So let me get this straight; your plushie flying rabbit told you that you were a superhero, and you believed it?”

“Well, obviously not at first, at first I thought I was crazy, but I was convinced after that time I fell off the roof and landed on my feet, dressed like this.”

“Whoa, seriously?”

“It was bloody terrifying.”

“But still cool at the same time, right?”

Arthur gave him a look, then shifted his eyes away, embarrassed.

“…okay, maybe a little.” He admitted.

“Exactly! So, can you like, fly and stuff?” Alfred appeared to be resisting the urge to jump up and down in excitement, and barely at that.

“No, I can’t really fly, but sometimes I can hover a bit.”

“Why sometimes?”

Arthur shifted in his seat, settling in for what was shaping up to be a long conversation. It seemed Alfred wanted to know all of his secrets. Not that he knew many of them himself.

“I don’t really understand it much myself: apparently I’m carrying all the powers, and different abilities express at different times, usually when I need them, thankfully, and none of them are mine. I need to find at least 2 of the other heroes before I find out what my skill even is, let alone start using it!” He sighed. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth, to be honest.”

If possible, Alfred’s eyes widened even further. “Hold on, other heroes? You mean there are more of you for me to stalk?”

He beamed excitedly, then seemed to realise what he’d said.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired. I didn’t mean that, just ignore me.” He slumped against the chimney he was using as a backrest, which was radiating warmth and surprisingly comfortable. It was the best roof for comfort in the city; the Panda Hero sure knew how to treat his guests.

“Not yet there aren’t, I need to find them first, or something like that,” He collapsed against the chimney next to Alfred.

“And this is all between the hours of ten at night and two in the morning, the rest of the time I have to go to school! On five hours of sleep a night! How the bloody hell am I meant to explain these injuries in PE?” He groaned. Alfred nodded empathically.

“My shoulder bloody well hurts, it does. I can barely move it, it’s bloody useless! What are these tossers doing to me Alfred? What am I doing to myself?”

“Mmm,” Alfred mumbled, as his head slid down to rest on Arthur’s shoulder, lulled to sleep by the heat of the chimney against his back and the fact it was half past one in the morning. Lucky Arthur had been busy in his first hour, or he wouldn’t have gotten anything done because of Alfred!

“What am I going to do with you, eh Alfred?” He brushed the boy’s hair away from his eyes. Alfred shivered in his sleep and shuffled closer to his friend.

“You’ll be the death of me, you and Francis and Ivan. Not Yao though, he’s sensible, I like him. But you. We’ve known you for the better part of 4 weeks and already we’d follow you anywhere. You’re keeping us together; there’s just something about you.” He looked at Alfred for a long moment, then up at the sky. It was cloudy, and the lights of the city meant he couldn’t see the stars. Alfred looked a lot younger while he was sleeping.

“I need to take you home, big dreamer.” He smiled. “But after a couple more minutes.”

 

* * *

  


_Alfred rests, with a warmth against his back and shoulder, and a comforting voice in his ear telling him he will do great things, and he falls deeper. The world bursts into butterflies, and he chases them through waist high grass, then he stands on a mountain and watches people carve faces into the rock opposite him, until he doesn't, and he is flying on metal wings, on top of the world and climbing ever higher, though the sky is vivid red..._

_He stands on a muddy, bloody field, and the rain pours, drenching him by the bucketload as he points a gun at arthur and feels like his soul is falling apart, who turns into the panda hero, england, and some subconscious part of his mind notes there isn't really much difference, and then everything is much clearer._

 

_He is hovering in air, and his eyes are closed. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and fills his chest with noxious smoke. As he coughs violently, his eyes flutter open, and burn and itch in their sockets. He is above a blazing inferno, so vast and angry the tips of flames are licking at his heels, but he is dreaming, so there is no pain. He can see buildings crumble and fall before his eyes, and he numbly realises he is crying, as he feels the tear tracks evaporate from the searing heat. The loneliness of the whole scene presses down on him, the silence is defening, even though the rumbling and crackling and burning are so so loud. He doesn't know, can't see any people down there, and he doesn't want to know if there are any. He twists in midair as he hears a rumble behind him, and watches another structure submit to the flames, and then it hits him. He knows that building. He passes it every day on the way to school. He knows all of these buildings._

_And then he is screaming, in some mixture of horror and fear, and damn near tearing his hair out by the roots, because this is his city, he lives here, he knows here, and now she is dying and there is nothing he can do. The warmth slowly spreads over him and intensifies, growing uncomfortable and beginning to singe him too, and he is helpless to resist the pull of gravity. A rough female voice in his ear asks: "will you be my hero?" And he falls into the abyss._

 

Alfred sat up in bed in his shirt and jeans with a start, panting heavily with tear tracks already drying on his face. He threw back the covers in a panic, rushing over to his window and throwing it open, sighing in relief as the night-time breeze cooled his irrationally feverish skin. Wisps of the dream curled through his mind, dancing out of his grasp as he reached for them. He absentmindedly rubbed at his eyes and wondered what the time was.

  


* * *

  


“I’m telling you, I really did meet him! We talked for like an hour, then I fell asleep and he took me home!”

“How romantic,” Francis drawled. “Are you absolutely sure that it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive,” said Alfred, appearing to wilfully ignore the comment about romance. “I woke up totally depressed, so I must have had a sad dream, and this definitely wasn’t sad!”

“Think about it from our perspective, Alfred,” Yao rubbed at his forehead, trying to stall the beginnings of a headache. “This all sounds ridiculous. Wouldn’t he have been busy?”

Alfred thought for a moment. “I thought so too, but he seemed to be fine with it.”

The four of them fell silent.

“Hey. Why’d you all believe Ivan and not me, anyway?” Alfred exclaimed indignantly.

“Because his story actually made some sense,” But not much, Yao added internally.

“ _Da,_ exactly,” Ivan crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

“No need to be so smug about it, Russkie dude.” Alfred sneered.

“You’re just jealous that I can tell stories better than you.”

“Like hell I am; my story is way cooler than yours!”

“ _Nyet_ , mine was better, it was in order.”

“At least all of mine was in English.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Are you saying I can’t talk good?”

“Yes.”

“Well fuck you!”

“How articulate. You are bad at arguing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you did not just go there; I can argue for anything, ever. Like, are you even Russian? You know way too many fancy words for someone who’s only been speaking English for a year and a half.”

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey, all you ever do is insult me!”

“What, and you’re really polite?”

“I am so damn polite it’s not even funny;  I’m a real southern gentleman.”  
“Please stop.” Said Yao.

“Isn’t that where they didn’t want to abolish slavery?”

“Ooh, low blow.” Francis hissed.

“Don’t you dare bring history into this, _fucking red_.”

“That is offensive.”

“I don’t care!”

Ivan’s expression grew mischievous, and he leaned closer to Alfred, until their noses were almost touching. He looked him very seriously right in the eyes, and hissed.

“ _I want to pluck out your eyeballs and wrap them in the bacon of the motherland, capitalist pig_.”

Alfred looked vaguely nauseated.

“What the hell man? Fuck you, you can’t have my eyeballs!”

“Nyet, In Soviet Russia , I-”

“And that’s enough. This is getting ridiculous; Arthur would have ended it at ‘are you even Russian’- where is he?” Francis interrupted the argument with trepidation, almost fearing for his life. Though Ivan gave him a rather vicious glare, he remained otherwise unharmed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Huh, now you mention it, it feels weird here without his massive eyebrows and shouty voice.” Alfred laughed. “I guess I miss him, the sulky bastard.”

“He should be here, he’s never ill,” Yao mused. “I hope he’s alright.”

“He will be fine, I am sure he is just sleeping.” Ivan looked thoughtful. “He looks ready to collapse most days of the week anyway.”

“Only you would see things like that, _creeper_.” Alfred hissed.

“At least I noticed, ignorant-”

“But he’s always here, no matter how he feels,” Francis cut over the blossoming argument without even acknowledging its existence. Alfred squeaked indignantly. “He says he might as well be here every day, since he had to move to ‘another bloody continent’ to come here.” Francis looked worried.  “I-”

“Hey, let’s go see him after school! Or even better, let’s go see him right now!” Alfred sat back proudly, as if that was the be-all and end-all of ideas.

“Do you even know where he lives?” Ivan asked scathingly.

“Well, no, but how many grumpy British teenagers with massive eyebrows can there be in this city anyway?”

“You’d be surprised; he has three brothers.” Francis shuddered as if remembering something stressful.

“No way, and they’re all as bad-tempered as him?” Alfred asked with wide eyes.

“Yes, and that’s the problem with visiting now, one of them might be home.”

“I thought the problem was that we’re meant to be in school. If we’re caught…” Yao tailed off threateningly.

Ivan slung an arm over his shoulder casually, ignoring the way Yao gave it the evil eye. “Relax, don’t be a wimp, it will be fun! Breaking law develops character!” he announced cheerily. Yao considered his options. On one hand, they were all incompetent (especially Alfred), and were likely to get caught right away, but on the other hand, they were his friends. He didn’t want to be left out of the inevitable bonding that would occur on this escapade, leaving him on the fringe of the group. Besides, they needed someone sensible to look out for them, otherwise who knew what could happen?

“I can’t believe I’m giving in to peer pressure like this, but fine, I’ll go.” Yao put a hand to his forehead in shame, and Ivan smiled at his victory. As always, it was slightly creepy.

“Are we really going to do this?” Alfred asked, suddenly nervous.

“Alfred, you idiot, it was your idea,” Francis sighed.

“Yeah, I know it was, but…” he tailed off and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“I feel that this situation calls for one of us to wave our arms around like wings and make the American chicken noise, am I right?” Ivan waited for his words to take effect.

“Alright, alright, no need for that, I’m up.” He jumped out of his seat like it had burned him, laughing brazenly and avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Jeez, I was joking alright, I’m no chicken.” He looked Ivan right in the eye, daring him to disagree. Ivan’s response was to raise a sceptical eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.” Alfred nodded smugly. He began stretching his arms out theatrically, like he was limbering up for a race, but stopped when he noticed the weird look that Yao was giving him.

“Okay team, let’s move out!” He marched off proudly, expecting them to follow. They looked at each other, shrugged, then hurried after him.

“Alfred, you don’t even know where he lives!” Francis called after his retreating back.

“Details!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I want to pluck out your eyeballs and wrap them in the bacon of the motherland - KayCricketed, The Great Elevator Massacre of 2010. I never thought of a better line.)
> 
> A wild natural chapter break appeared!
> 
> Shorter than the other one, but if I didn't stop here it would be much much longer.
> 
> I didn't want to post until I was sure I was going to actually write a full story, but my friends bullied me into uploading. I won't be able to maintain any kind of regular updating until summer, cause I'm in my final year of school and I have really really important exams going on. And I'm slow.
> 
> Despite this, I hope I can still create a satisfying story!


	3. I Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been writing this chapter for four years

“Man, that was sweet!” Alfred was skipping along backwards in front of Ivan and Yao, regularly stumbling but admirably persisting all the same. Francis walked ahead of them, leading the way.

“Yao, the way you sprung that lock, I mean wow, I had no idea you could do that!”

Yao shrugged. “It’s just something I picked up.”

“Dude, you need to teach me that like, yesterday.”

Catching sight of Francis shaking his head frantically over Alfred’s shoulder, he gave a noncommittal “someday,” and waited until Alfred turned to Francis before shuddering. Alfred, able to pick locks? Arthur- no, the world - would never forgive him.

“And Francis, you charmer! I thought that chick was never gonna let us leave!”

Francis flicked his hair over his shoulder with a flourish. It shone in the light like no teenager’s had any right to. “Her name is Amber, she’s a Libra, and we’re going to lunch next Thursday.”

Alfred looked at him with the beginnings of new respect in his eyes.

“You need to teach me that, too.”

Francis sighed. “It’s a gift, _mon ami_. I can try, but I make no promises.”

Alfred looked him over appraisingly, before turning to Ivan.

“What did you even say to that police guy, Ivan? I thought we were rumbled for sure!”

“Oh, I just explained to him the situation and he seemed to understand. Why do you ask?” Ivan replied innocently.

“It’s just, he looked so scared…” Alfred frowned. Ivan inwardly shrugged. All he’d done was put the fear of the motherland into him. Not his fault if the man took it the wrong way.

“Wow, we make a great team,” Alfred sighed happily. “I’m glad I thought up this little trip.” He stumbled in his backwards skipping, but managed to right himself quickly and spun round to face the front.

“I meant to do that!” He called out.

“This is it!” Francis announced. He’d stopped outside a two-storey detached house, with a cobbled path and a well-kept garden at the front of it.

“Nice pad.” Alfred nodded approvingly.

“Do you think any of his siblings will be home?” Yao asked.

“For all our sakes, I hope not.” Francis shuddered.

“I can’t even imagine that level of eyebrows in one room, seriously,” Alfred said as he vaulted over the front wall and strolled up to the front door. “I feel like the universe would implode or something.” He turned around.

“Well, aren’t you guys coming?” he asked.

They made their way to his side. Yao eyed up the wall surreptitiously, almost considering copying Alfred’s move, before he thought better of it, using the gate like the other three.

“I am thinking of his face when he will open the door,” Ivan said. “He will be angry, no?”

“Why would he be angry?” Alfred asked incredulously. “Here, look.”

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner, before Francis pulled his hand away and forcibly held it down, at around ‘dawn’s early light’ or so.

They heard a muffled shout from inside the house, followed by the sound of thudding footsteps. Soon after, Arthur threw the door open, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun with a hand. Confused, he looked them up and down, blinking sleepily. Then, his eyes narrowed.

“I was sleeping. Why are you… wait, what time is it?”

“It’s… ” Alfred grabbed Yao’s wrist and brought it up to his eyes to read the time off his watch. “12.30! Hey, can we come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Yao and ducking under Arthur’s arm to open the first door leading from the hall he came across. “No, wait, that’s a cupboard.”

“12.30… oh my God, Alfred, did you all skip school to come here?” Arthur demanded, following Alfred as he finally found the living room and settled himself into a plush cream sofa.

“Nice place you got here Arthur,” Alfred said, ignoring him entirely.

“It was his idea,” Ivan said from the doorway of the room. Alfred glared at him, but Ivan only stuck his tongue out in response.

“Of course it was.” Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he sat down in an armchair. “I swear, I can’t take my eyes off you people for one second.”

“For the record, I was against this,” Yao said, perched on the arm of a chair next to Ivan, who had sat next to Alfred on the sofa.

“And yet here you are,” said Ivan. Yao hit him in the arm.

 “You haven’t missed school since we first arrived, Arthur. We were just worried about you.” Francis put a comforting hand on Arthur’s shoulder, before quickly removing it after hearing Arthur’s sharp hiss of pain.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just must’ve slept funny on it, is all.” Arthur tried to reassure him, rolling his shoulder a couple of times to try and alleviate the stiffness, missing the way Alfred’s eyes tracked the movement. Alfred had, after all, heard a certain superhero complaining about an injury in exactly the same place only last night…

Alfred almost laughed out loud at what he was thinking. Arthur? A superhero? He was being ridiculous.

“I can give you a comforting shoulder rub?” Francis offered Arthur with a wink.

“Oh, go sit down.” Arthur gestured at the armchair across the room with a sigh.

“Suit yourself.” Francis flounced over to the other armchair, tossing the end of his scarf over his shoulder and crossing his legs elegantly as he sat down.

“Sorry if you were worried about me,” said Arthur, watching Alfred bounce his leg up and down out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve just been so tired lately-”

“I met the Panda Hero!” Alfred interjected with glee, almost jumping up out of his seat with the urge to share the tale of his night-time adventure. He was met with groans from around the room.

“You’ve already told us this.” Yao sighed.

“I’ve heard this three times!” Francis cried. “No!”

“How many ninja will be in the story this time?” Ivan wondered out loud.

“I thought this visit was supposed to be about me?” Arthur said, not feeling keen on the idea of hearing a dramatic retelling of his own evening. Not even a factually accurate retelling of his own evening, judging by what Ivan had said.

“Yeah, but you’re fine, right?” Alfred waved an airy hand. “Stop being such buzzkills, guys. My life changed forever last night.”

“Fine.” Arthur sighed. “Let’s hear it then. Just make it quick, so I can go back to bed.”

“You’re gonna _love_ this!” As Alfred launched into his tale, Arthur let his excited squeals and unidentifiable action sound effects fade into the background, rolling his shoulder again, trying to alleviate some of the lingering stiffness in the muscle. Maybe he should have said yes to that shoulder rub after all? He looked up at Francis, who having heard Alfred’s story three times already was absentmindedly examining his nails, nodding absently whenever there was a lull in Alfred’s speech, and thought better of it. You say yes to a massage, and where does it end?

“…so then I was like, ‘you have failed this city’, and then the Panda Hero was like ‘Alfred you are so cool and I wish we could hang out every day’ and then we took a kickass selfie together.” Alfred paused in his relentless tirade of information to gasp for breath. Arthur took the opportunity to stop him there.

“Alfred,” he asked, inserting just the right amount of suspicion into his voice. “Did any of this actually happen?”

“Well…” Alfred looked sheepish, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. “We didn’t actually stop a robbery together, we just talked.”

Francis gasped dramatically in mock surprise.

“But I do have a picture!” Alfred jumped up, wrestling his phone out of his back pocket, and shoved it in front of Arthur’s face. It was almost close enough to touch his nose. He certainly couldn’t see anything more of whatever he was being shown than some out-of-focus blotches of colour.

“Look!”

Arthur grabbed his wrist and forcibly moved his arm back by about a foot to let his eyes focus.

“Huh,” he said finally. “The vigilante let you take this?”

His surprise wasn’t entirely faked - he really was surprised at himself. It had been a risky move, allowing a photograph of his Panda Hero self that was anything more than a grainy blur to exist at all, let alone it being in the hands of a friend who could well recognise him. If he hadn’t yet, he was unlikely to, but the risk still existed. It was rather unlike him, to allow such risk, but Alfred’s innocent excitement had been rather sweet, and he’d found that he couldn’t really help saying yes.

It was a good photo, though. Alfred, bundled in his beanie hat and thick winter scarf, his cheeks and the tip of his nose pink with the cold air, grinning from ear to ear with his arm around the hooded hero.

Arthur was actually quite impressed with how he looked as the Panda Hero from a casual glance, having not been around mirrors very often while transformed to properly assess the look. Although he still didn’t understand the need for the ears protruding from the top, the hood covered his scruffy sandy-blond hair well, and the forest green markings around his eyes functioned almost like a mask. The flag and its bright colours, rather than looking tacky like he’d worried, were a bold and courageous statement, and the moody and, dare he say it, _dangerous_ expression on his face wasn’t like him at all. All in all, it was a functional disguise.

(And, a tiny, less serious part of him whispered, he looked like a proper superhero.)

It was Alfred’s lock screen, too, and that was just precious.

Alfred was still looking at him expectantly.

“It’s very nice, Alfred,” he said.

“You could probably earn some money selling that picture to papers,” said Ivan, and Arthur tried to keep the sudden alarm off his face. Alfred blew all his money on comics, and was always on the lookout for ways to get more.

“Hey, I’m not gonna do that!” Alfred was outraged. “The Panda Hero trusted me! It’s mine!”

“Just a suggestion,” Ivan replied, shrugging. Arthur hadn’t really thought Alfred would be the type to ‘kiss and tell’, for want of a better phrase, but it was nice to hear it confirmed all the same.

“What I don’t understand,” said Yao thoughtfully, “is why the Panda Hero talked to Alfred at all. He wasn’t in danger or a victim, like Ivan was. Why show his face at all?”

“Of course he talked to me, I’m amazing!” Alfred said happily.

“Oh, _cher_ , never change,” Francis said, chuckling. “Bathroom, Arthur?” he asked, getting up.

For one odd moment, Arthur thought Francis was asking him to go with him.

“Oh, uh, first door at the top of the stairs,” he replied. “Can’t miss it.”

“Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” Francis winked at Arthur as he sashayed out of the room.

“Oh, fuck off,” said Arthur, laughing a little even as he said it.

“About the Panda Hero, I think I know,” said Ivan. “As creepy as Alfred’s hero worship is to us who know him-”

“Hey!”

“-the Panda Hero works under cover of darkness, and enjoyed being appreciated.”

That was a fair assessment, Arthur thought. Everyone liked to be appreciated.

“What the Panda Hero really wants is attention. He is a little bit of a… drama queen? That is the right expression?” Ivan asked.

Oh, _hold on_.

“You know exactly what the right expression is, stop playing your accent up,” Alfred accused. “Why do you even do that?”

“Because you enjoy it so much, _Fredka_ ,” said Ivan innocently.

“Noooooo! Please don’t give me a pet name!” Alfred wailed.

“ _Slishkom Pozdno, Fredka_!” Ivan doubled over laughing.

“Stop that!”

“Uh, Ivan,” Arthur interrupted them before the inevitable fight broke out. “What did you mean by drama queen?”

“Well, when I saw him, he said to me ‘terribly sorry old chap’,” Ivan answered, the clichéd English sounding ridiculous in his Russian accent. “Nobody talks like that.”

“I’m sure _some_ people talk like that,” said Arthur.

Ivan thought for a moment. “No, they don’t.”

“Francis does it all the time!” Arthur protested. “Every third word he says is French!”

“I don’t think Francis is really the best example of normal behaviour,” Yao said.

“I don’t really speak French, so I can’t be sure, but I think Francis once called me a cauliflower,” said Alfred.

“Intended as the highest praise, I assure you, _mon chapeau formidable_ ,” Francis said, ruffling Alfred’s hair as he came back into the room, choosing to lean against the side of the sofa instead of sitting back down. Arthur’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he spotted one of Francis’ hands was held awkwardly behind his back.

“Awwww, Francis, that’s sweet.” Alfred grinned goofily.

“Alfred, that’s not real. He just called you a hat.” Arthur seriously worried about that boy sometimes.

“What kind of hat?” Alfred mused.

“I- what? That’s not the point!”

“I disagree. What kind of hat am I, Francis?” Alfred turned to ask him.

“Only the douchiest of snapbacks could match you, Alfred Jones,” Francis assured him.

“That works. Sweet.” Alfred sat back, the most important question of the afternoon, in his opinion, already having been answered.

“Controversially, Arthur, you are a bowler hat, not a top hat,” Francis continued.

“I literally don’t care at all-”

“But enough about that, look what I found when I was looking through Arthur’s room!”

“My what?!” Arthur shrieked, his heart sinking as Francis brought what he’d been hiding behind his back out in front of him, and he recognised a certain green stuffed rabbit (who of course moonlighted as a hero consultant, but he was very good at pretending).

“Oh hey, he’s cute,” Alfred said. “What is it?”

Yao’s eyes had gone very wide.

“It’s a rabbit, but it’s got wings, let me see that…” Alfred held a hand out for the toy, but Yao snatched it as soon as Francis held it out, cuddling it close to his chest, looking more content than any of them had seen him before.

“I just really like cute things,” he whispered, sounding almost choked up.

“That’s, uh,” Arthur began. “That’s Flying Mint Bunny, I got him on holiday in Wales, er… are you not going to make fun of me?”

“Why?” Alfred said absently. “Let me have him Yao, I want to see his little wings.”

“No.”

“You should trust us more,” said Francis to Arthur, as Yao fought off Alfred’s swipes for Flying Mint Bunny. “I don’t know what kind of friends you had back home, but none of us would mock you for something like this. We came here today because we were worried about you. We care about you, okay? Please don’t be afraid to open up.”

Yao pushed Alfred off the sofa. Ivan applauded.

“What,” Arthur snorted. “Did you bring my stuffed animal down here to make some sort of point about the magical power of friendship and trust? Doesn’t seem like you, Francis.”

“No, I just thought you’d look cute when you blushed.” Francis chuckled. “Oh, hey, there it is again!”

“S-shut up!” Arthur protested, shoving Francis away while trying to cover his now bright red cheeks.

“Aha!” Alfred shouted in triumph, breathing hard as he held up his prize, Flying Mint Bunny. Yao, defeated, glared at him from the corner of the sofa.

“I win!”

“Win what?” asked Ivan. It was a good question.

“Well, I… just…” his sentence trailing off into nothing, Alfred slowly lowered Mint Bunny, down to his side, his eyes growing more and more unfocused.

“Alfred?” Francis asked tentatively.

Mint Bunny fell from his slack grip.

“What’s he doing?” Yao said, picking Mint Bunny up off the floor and dusting him off.

“He is playing a silly game, no?” Ivan said.

“I… I will…” Alfred muttered, his eyelids fluttering.

“Alfred!” Arthur yelled, alarmed, reaching for Alfred as he suddenly listed alarmingly to the side.

“I will!” Alfred shouted, becoming alert again just in time to throw an arm out to save himself. He sat back down on the sofa with a sigh of relief.

“Alfred?” Arthur asked cautiously. “What was that about?”

“Mmm? What was what about?” Alfred answered distractedly, totally lost in thought. He was looking down at his hands, his brow lightly furrowed.

“You know,” Arthur prompted. “I will..? Will what?”

“That?” Alfred shook his head as if to shake off a train of thought. “Oh, that was nothing.” He laughed, and put on his biggest, brightest grin.

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked sceptically.

“You sounded like a maniac,” Ivan added.

“Yeah, sure, totally fine. Loving the weird bird-rabbit, by the way, Arthur,” Alfred said, trying to change the subject.

“Don’t call him weird!” Yao said, outraged.

“Don’t even try it!” Arthur said. “You were having some kind of psychic episode or something!”

“Yeah, I’m totally psychic,” Alfred drawled. “That’s why I got an A on that test last week. You got me.” He paused and pretended to think for a moment. “Oh wait, that was you! Maybe you’re psychic, huh? Check and mate!”

Arthur sighed. “No, Alfred, I just studied.”

“Haha, nerd!”

“Oh, so working hard and caring about my future makes me a nerd, does it?”

“Yah, a loser nerd.”

Alfred smiled to himself as Arthur began berating him for his lax attitude to education. Subject changed subtly and skilfully, even if he said so himself. Arthur loved lecturing him more than anything. Now he just had to keep it changed for the next couple of hours until they all left for home. Shouldn’t be too hard. If all else failed, he could just bring up the thing about the hats again.

 

* * *

 

 

Even Arthur’s mother had noticed how much better a mood he was in after that surprise visit from his friends. He couldn’t tell her why, of course, as all five of them should’ve been in class, but it wasn’t too hard to pretend it was because of a good grade. He didn’t think she was listening all that well anyway.

The thought of his nightly patrol would’ve filled him with dread that morning, but he could even face that with a smile now, thinking of how Alfred, his number one fan, might search the next morning’s news for any sign of his exploits. The shoulder wouldn’t be too bad, he’d just pop a couple of painkillers. Refreshed after a good night’s sleep, thrilled by the idea of admiration, he was feeling the kind of excitement about the job he hadn’t felt since he first got his powers. He felt like a hero again, rather than a bumbling idiot throwing himself into danger for the sake of it.

“Sorry about that earlier, Mint,” he said to his guide, who was being uncharacteristically silent, as he suited up for the night. “Hope they weren’t too much bother; especially Alfred.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what was going on with him today.”

“It’s him,” Flying Mint Bunny said suddenly. Arthur froze.

“What do you mean?” He asked, after a moment.

“It’s him, Arthur,” Mint said, growing steadily more excited. “He’s the one we’ve been looking for. He’s a Panda Hero.”

“Alfred is?”

“Yes! I can’t believe our luck! Right here under our noses!”

“My Alfred?”

“Yes!”

“How did you… I mean, how can you tell?”

“I could feel it!”

Arthur sighed. He’d been hoping for a more expansive answer than that, but vagueness wasn’t out of character for Mint at all.

“Look,” he said, “are you sure? It seems unlikely, is all. We’ve been searching for four months and it was him all along? What are the chances of that?”

“Don’t you see?” Mint said excitedly. “It’s destiny, England!”

“Destiny?” Arthur scoffed. “Don’t give me that.”

“You have superpowers, England, why would you draw the line at destiny?”

“I dunno… it’s embarrassing…”

Mint laughed. “You’re funny. Won’t it be fun to work with another Panda Hero? You’re always talking about how tired you get.”

“I suppose…”

Arthur thought about it. It _would_ be fun. Alfred would love being a superhero more than anything. Sharing the workload, fighting the bad guys together, it sounded like it would be fun – that is, if he ignored the little part of him crying out that the Panda Hero was _his_ thing, and he didn’t want Alfred upstaging him. That was just ungrateful; he could really do with the company. The hero gig could be lonely.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“Huh? Do what?” He’d startled Mint.

“He’s coming with us tonight, Mint. Let’s put him through his paces before we tell him the truth, see if he could handle the lifestyle.” The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. He could show Alfred the ropes, they could bond; it’d all be a great laugh.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to show off to him?” Mint asked sceptically.

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Will you be my hero?_

 

Alfred, too distracted by mulling over the mystery voice to even think about picking up a comic, was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was supposed to be asleep, but that was nothing new. Instead, he was wracking his brains, trying to think of where he’d heard that voice before. It had been hauntingly familiar, almost like he’d heard it every day of his life, and yet strangely generic at the same time. Who was she? Why did he keep hearing her? And what on earth had compelled him to say yes to her?

 

_I will._

 

Will what? What had he been thinking, making promises he might not be able to keep? When you used the word hero, you could get him to do anything, it seemed. When you started hearing voices, you shouldn’t promise to do things for them. It was just common sense.

Alfred sighed, and shifted in his bed so he was lying on his side, facing the wall. He’d never had a lot of common sense. His parents said it, Arthur said it, Mr Beilschmidt said it after he broke his nose that one time. He should probably just go to sleep, and worry about it all later. He shut his eyes and relaxed, his breathing getting slower and deeper, until suddenly he was hit with a realisation and his eyes snapped back open again. Of course! He’d heard her voice last night, in that dream! He couldn’t remember much of it, but that was the voice he’d heard just before he woke up. He felt relieved for a moment, but then he remembered that hearing voices from your dreams during the day was not really a good thing. He groaned out loud. Maybe Arthur was right to be worried…

At that moment, he heard a tapping at his window, shaking him out of his thoughts. He considered getting out of bed to check on it, but decided against it. It was cold, and besides, it was probably the tree branches tapping against the window in the wind.

It came again, more insistent this time, and Alfred remembered that there were no tree branches within easy reach of his bedroom window. He sat up in bed.

There, perched on the windowsill, tapping at the glass with a sheepish expression on his face, was the Panda Hero. Alfred’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he got up to let him in, tensing as the cold air hit his blanket-warm body. He gestured to the Panda Hero to get down from the windowsill, but it took a couple of tries for him to get that across. Finally, he turned the handle and pushed the window open.

“Uh, hi,” said the Panda Hero.

“The window opens outwards,” was all Alfred could think to say.

“Oh, so that was what you meant,” the Panda Hero said. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Alfred’s brain kicked in.

“It’s cold out, did you want to come inside?” Alfred gestured to his bedroom behind him, a gracious host indeed. “It was England, right?”

England nodded. He leapt back up onto the sill, lightly, like a cat, and then stepped through into Alfred’s bedroom. He stood there stiffly in the middle of the room, gazing around idly at the piles of comics and clothes, his arms folded across his chest, his fingers drumming against his bicep every so often, as if with the repressed urge to start tidying up.

“Uhhh…” Alfred began. “I know this looks bad, but I keep those comics like that for a reason. The clothes, I’ve got no excuse for – I haven’t seen my batman shirt for weeks – but these are in order. See here, this is All New X-men issue number 22, and that’s next to Guardians of the Galaxy issue 5, because the Guardians are-”

“Alfred,” Arthur said rather abruptly, interrupting Alfred’s rambling.

“Yeah?”

“Would you, by any chance, like to stop a robbery with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what kind of hat you think you are in the comments

**Author's Note:**

> Who knows? Maybe I'll continue this one day.


End file.
